


Advantage Rules

by MischiefUnmanaged



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Football | Soccer, M/M, National Women's Soccer League, World Cup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:03:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischiefUnmanaged/pseuds/MischiefUnmanaged
Summary: Anya nudged her and redirected her attention, “Looks like they have some new talent this year.”Lexa tried to shrug her off, “Probably. Helps to have new players to choose from for the World Cup,” but Anya nodded in the direction of the team again.Lexa scanned more closely this time. Her eyes landed on a dark-haired woman with tanned skin suited up that she didn’t recognize as being the keeper that Arkadia had played during their last season, Octavia Blake who Lexa would be surprised if she wasn't at least called up to a camp for TWNT this year, someone with red hair that Lexa most likely would have remembered if she played last season and another brunette who had a right arm full of tattoos.“What are you on about, Lachmann?" Lexa's eyes locked onto a blonde that had half of her hair pulled up into a ponytail while the other half rested on the nape of her neck. She was juggling a ball, and when she looked up, her blue eyes locked with Lexa's. For just a second, the butterflies that had been on their great migration in Lexa's stomach stopped fluttering.“There it is.”(OR: Women's Soccer World Cup AU)





	Advantage Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this the 'pilot' episode?

There were 16 months until the World Cup. 

Lexa Woods reached up to wipe the sweat that was frozen to her temples by the cool February air. She was bent over and heaving, with her hands resting on her knees. This was her fourth training camp for the Polis Women’s Football Club and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about running suicides.

But she sure as hell knew she loved playing soccer.

And she had to love playing soccer to survive Coach Gustus Gona’s conditioning sessions.

It was the last day of camp and Gustus hadn’t let up once. The session was full of young and talented players from all over Trigeda, and it was obvious that Gustus was having a hard time narrowing down his roster. So here they were, running suicides.

Running without music or a ball should probably be considered some type of capital punishment. It was bad enough that Lexa had to endure the workout— but sitting alone with her thoughts as her only consolation? That was anything but, well, a consolation.

She wouldn’t have traded it for anything though. If you asked 6-year-old Lexa what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have spouted off a list of professional women soccer players: “Mia Hamm! Julie Foudy! No, no—Brandi Chastain!”

And often, the adults in the room would laugh and pinch her childhood dreams between their thumb and forefinger, as adults do, and then return to sipping their unsweetened espresso drinks or vodka sodas, depending on the occasion.

And sixteen years later, when Lexa was called up to the Polis Women’s Football Club during the National Women’s Soccer League playoffs in her senior year of college, she wished she could have written every single one of those people a note that said, ‘Take that unsweetened espresso drink and _shove it_.’

But that was four years ago. Four years and two NWSL Cup Championships, an Olympic Gold Medal, and now only sixteen months until the World Cup.

“Last one, ladies!” she heard Gustus yell through her heavy breaths that were now making clouds of condensation in front of her.

To be honest, there was probably a point in her life that Lexa laughed at her childhood dreams, too. Like the time she tore her ACL her senior year of high school and lost her scholarship to Trishana University and had to attend Tondc State instead. Or, the time she was benched her entire college sophomore season and her cousin not-so-lovingly referred to her as the ‘lesbian benchwarmer’. 

But Lexa Woods wasn’t one to give up. And after a lot of capital punishment... er, hard-work, here she was—26-years-old and reading the note addressed to her current self from her past self urging her to shove her vodka soda you-know-where.

The whistle blew again, and Lexa took off in a sprint toward the goal box line, and then back again. She bent over, allowing her fingers to pluck a few blades of grass out of touchline, before turning around again and sprinting toward the penalty line this time.

To the center line and back. Opposite penalty box and back. Opposite goal box and back.

Was this some kind of metaphor for her life?

 _’One more, Woods,’_ she thought to herself.

Lexa used her last bit of energy to burst through her starting point. She felt a hand clap her back as she finished and a groan from beside her a few seconds later.

“Damn! I thought I had you, Woods!”

“Better luck next time, Lachmann," Lexa smirked in Anya's direction before giving her a fist bump and walking off to stretch her now cramping hamstrings, while cheering for the other women as the crossed the touchline.

Anya approached Lexa as the last few players finished their set, “Another great turnout, don’t you think?” She paused to catch her breath. “I swear they get younger, and younger every year though.”

“Are you sure you’re not just getting older and older?” 

“Says the old woman herself.” Anya turned her attention to one of the other players, Indra Seda.

“Retirement calling your name, Indra?” It was Lexa’s turn to joke.

“I think I still have one NWSL Cup Championship left in me, don’t you, Woods?”

Lexa laughed and didn’t rebut because she knew as well as anyone that this would probably be Indra’s last club season. Professional soccer players didn’t often have careers as long and as successful as Indra’s, who was headed into her 12th season. Lexa also knew that this would likely be Indra’s last trip to the World Cup on the Trigeda Women’s National Team (TWNT)— as a player anyway. Lexa wore a tight smile as she kept her mouth shut and gave both Anya and Indra a playful shove.

Indra was one of the first players Lexa met after being called up to roster for FC Polis. Lexa remembered first seeing her as she filed through security on her way to baggage claim. Indra was shorter than Lexa but much more imposing. She was immediately intimidated. On the car ride back to the training grounds, Lexa had to pretend that she hadn't been following Indra on Instagram for years and that she didn't have a copycat TWNT Jersey with Seda and the number 1 etched across its back.

She kept her cool for all of 30 seconds. Indra still hadn’t let her live it down.

As for Anya, she was traded to FC Polis from Broadleaf United during Lexa’s second season. Lexa immediately fell under Anya’s wing, eventually besting her out of her position as the center midfielder. There were never any hard feelings and Anya was moved to defense as a testament to the woman’s skill and versatility, where her tall and built frame better suited her anyway. The two read each other on the field unlike any duo that the NWSL had ever seen before. 

The three women also played on the TWNT together, winning gold at the Olympics during Lexa’s first official season with the team. It was a game she would never forget. Over the season following the Olympics, Lexa and Anya forged a pretty strong friendship, and Indra had become the two younger girls’ role model. Lexa could barely remember what playing soccer without Anya and Indra was like and desperately tried to avoid thinking about it any more than absolutely necessary. 

Gustus blew his whistle again, and the players jogged over to where he stood.

“Excellent showing this past week, ladies.” He glanced around the circle that had formed around him as he clasped his hands together and rocked from his toes to his heels. “I’ll be giving you a call within the next week with more details. I enjoyed working with each and every one of you.” He paused and looked around the circle again, this time crossing his arms across his chest. “Make sure you get a cool down in. See the trainer if you need to. You’re dismissed.”

Lexa started toward the side of the pitch where her equipment was laid out when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Can I speak with you, Woods?”

“Sure, coach.”

Gustus and Lexa walked away from the group of women and toward the goal. “I’m impressed with how you looked this week, Lexa.”

“Thanks, coach.” Lexa fiddled with the bottom hem of her practice jersey.

There was a bit of awkward silence before Gustus started, “I’ve been talking with Seda.”

“Sir?”

"She and I both think you're the best fit for a captain, Woods."

Lexa stopped mid-stride, "What about Lachmann, sir?”

“Seda suggested you, Woods.” There was more awkward silence before Gustus sighed and then started again, “You’ve grown into a much stronger player than the kid fresh out of college that I signed 4 years ago.” He paused before starting again, “You’re one of the strongest center-mids I’ve seen in my entire career. Hell, you’re the best in the league right now.” He stopped and turned to look at Lexa. He placed one of each of his hands on each one of her shoulders. “I know how hard you work for this team. Everyone already looks up to you.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“This club is the strongest it’s ever been, Woods.” Lexa started to interject, but Gustus started first, “I think—No, scratch that—I know you can lead us to the cup this year.”

“That’s a pretty strong vote of confidence.”

“Think on it. I’ll call you at the end of the week.” He removed his hands from her shoulders and started to walk back toward the sideline.

Lexa felt a hand clap her back, “You’re saying yes.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“I see the look on your face.”

“There’s no look, Anya.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” Anya replaced her hand with the handle to Lexa’s gear bag as they made their way off the pitch and back out to the parking lot.

**__________**

“Hello?”

_“Good morning. Can I speak with Clarke Griffin, please?”_

“This is her.”

_“Clarke, hello! This is Marcus Kane with the Arkadia Women’s Football Club. How are you?”_

“Good morning coach Kane! Uhm, I’m good, how are you?”

_“I’m great, Griffin, thanks for asking. Hey, listen-- I’ve been following your season with the Arkers. As you may or may not already know, we’re having our training camp next week.”_

“Yes, sir. I was aware.”

_“Consider this your invitation.”_

Clarke looked up to the sky and put her hands together, mouthing a huge ‘thank you’ to the soccer gods.

_“Griffin? You still there?”_

She was pulled out of her celebratory dance, and composed herself enough to respond, “Yes, sorry sir, I’m still here.” She was beaming, “You’re serious?”

_“As ever. Look I gotta call a few more people, but I’ll send you the details in an email. Griffin3@arkersfc.com right?”_

“Yes, coach. Thank you so much for the call!”

_“No problem, Griffin. I’ll be seeing you next week!”_

Clarke hung up the phone. “Holy shit I need to tell Octavia and Raven!”

She opened the messages app on her phone before quickly typing:

 **[0732] Clarke Griffin:** GUYS.

 **[0732] Clarke Griffin:** GUESS WHAT.

Clarke put the phone down in her lap and rested her head back against the driver’s seat. Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

 **[0733] Raven Reyes:** what the actual fuck Griff. It’s ducking 7:30

 **[0733] Raven Reyes:** *fucking FUCK

 **[0734] Octavia Blake:** ~Octavia Blake emphasized Raven Reyes’ message: *fucking FUCK~

 **[0734] Octavia Blake:** this better be good

Clarke smiled and typed out another message:

 **[0734] Clarke Griffin:** Marcus Kane just called me............

Clarke held her breath for the 15 seconds that passed between hitting send and the first response.

 **[0735] Raven Reyes:** WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK GRIFF

 **[0735] Octavia Blake:** YOU’RE IN!?!?!?

 **[0735] Clarke Griffin:** I’M IN!!!!

Clarke felt her phone continue to buzz as she slipped it into the cup holder in the middle console of her car. She was beaming as she started up the ignition to start her drive home from the gym. 

_I can’t believe this,_ she thought. 

Jake Griffin used to kick a ball with Clarke in the backyard as early as Clarke could remember. He coached Clarke’s mini-league teams, drove her to club team tournaments in the summer, and stood on the sidelines of every single high school game with a white piece of poster board that had ‘Griffin #3’ carefully drawn across it in blue acrylic paint.

Soccer had always been a part of Clarke’s life. It was there for her whenever she needed it. It was central to many of her best memories, and the silver lining of many of her worst. Through championship losses, breakups, ended friendships, and the stress of figuring out what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, soccer was always there.

Soccer was even how she met her two best friends. When Clarke was 8 years old her parents allowed her to try out for Arkadia’s club team. After the first 30 minutes of tryouts, Clarke was still so nervous that she considered faking sick so she could go home. That’s when Raven Reyes approached her-- goalie gloves too big for her hands, her kit reaching down to her knees, and old beat up trainers that looked a size too big.

_“If I have to look like a clown all day, you don’t get to fake sick.”_

_“I’m not faking sick?”_

_“You look exactly how I feel when I pretend to be sick to get out of language arts class.”_

Clarke stayed. They both made the team and became fast friends from there. When Clarke learned a bit about Raven’s home life, Clarke made sure that Raven could spend most of her time at the Griffin household. She roomed with Jake and Clarke at tournaments, slept over on school nights, and even went on family vacations with the Griffins. Raven was as close to a sibling that Clarke ever had. 

She was also one of the best goalkeepers that Clarke had ever seen. Their junior year, Raven was scouted for a full ride to Arkadia Tech. She accepted, ecstatically of course. Clarke took probably too many pictures and cheered way too loudly at Raven’s signing day in their high school library after class. Raven really had beaten all odds.

All odds except Octavia Blake, that is.

When Clarke and Raven were sophomores in high school, they made the Varsity team. The same year, 8th grader Octavia was pulled up from the middle school developmental team to play with them. Nobody took the transfer seriously, assuming that Octavia would just be filling the jersey rather than the position of the player who they lost to a broken ankle, but then Octavia scored on Raven in a team scrimmage at the end of that very first practice. 

The whole team stopped in their tracks, Clarke considered running to block the punch that was surely about to come for Octavia’s head, but Raven laughed. She laughed and pulled on Octavia's ponytail.

 _“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,”_ Raven would say the following weekend when she invited Octavia to their weekly movie night.

The enemies part never came, though. The three became inseparable. Raven as the best goalkeeper Arkadia High had even seen, Octavia as the highest scoring striker by her sophomore year, and Clarke's support and love for the sport and her friends growing every single year. 

But when Jake Griffin died, so did Clarke’s love of soccer. 

She pulled her car into the parking lot of her apartment complex, slamming it into park and taking the keys out of the ignition. She pulled down the visor that hung above her head and slid the cover that was protecting the mirror that hid underneath to the right. Her blue eyes pierced the picture that was reflected back at her. _‘This is going to be a good thing, Griffin,’ she thought._

She grabbed her gym bag from the passenger seat and opened the car door, swinging the gym bag over her shoulder as she stepped out.

“What the hell!?”

Clarke was wrapped up in a tangle of dark brown hair and long arms before she even was completely out of the car, "How did you know I was here?"

“You think I didn’t immediately share your location with myself permanently when I set up your new phone?” Raven gripped Clarke tighter, “What type of computer science student would it make me if I didn’t?”

“The kind that doesn’t stalk her friends.” Clarke pushed Raven off of her and went to hug Octavia, “Hi, O.”

“I am so happy for you, bitch.”

“You’re so nice to me.”

"I told you my 6 am workouts would pay off eventually." Octavia let go of Clarke and started to usher her and Raven toward their front door, "Come on. Let’s strategize while someone makes me breakfast.”

“Ooh, pancakes!?” Raven was the first to walk through the door.

Clarke put her bag down and helped Raven pull out the ingredients to make pancakes while Octavia was seated at the breakfast bar, “Can you believe that we are all going to be playing with each other again?”

“Raven and I still have to impress Kane, O.” Clarke cracked an egg into a bowl of batter.

“Speak for yourself, Griffin. Kane would be stupid not to roster me.”

When Raven graduated college, she was drafted as a keeper for Arkers FC, the Arkadia FC amateur team, alongside Clarke. She spent her first season coming in as a backup to close out matches that already had decent leads. She spent the following season as the starting keeper and closing out teams altogether, quickly garnering attention from coaches all across Trigeda. When the call from Marcus Kane came a week earlier asking her to come to the training camp the following weekend, nobody was really surprised.

“I still remember when you got the call, O.” Clarke poured batter onto the griddle.

Octavia was only 19 years old when she was scouted from Wonkru University to play for Arkadia FC. She had been with Clarke and Raven during their summer break from school, sitting at the Griffin’s kitchen table when her phone rang. They invited everyone in each of their respective contact lists to the Griffin’s that night to celebrate. 

“Can you believe it’s been almost five years since that summer?” 

“Don’t get sentimental on us already, Griff.”

“Griffin? Sentimental?” Raven flipped the first pancake over nonchalantly. 

Clarke flicked some of the raw batter at her, “Both of you suck.”

“Hey, don’t talk to your future teammates like that!”

*******

On the following Friday afternoon, Clarke found herself standing on the sideline with about 30 other players getting ready to start the first fitness test of the day.

_Beep!_

Everyone took off from the line at a jog, making their way out to a set of cones 20 meters away.

_Beep!_

Clarke pivoted and headed back toward her starting point, picking up her pace a little bit more this time.

“I’m already over this.”

“We’re only at level 1, Reyes.”

_Beep!_

The beeping and the running continued. Back and forth, faster and faster, until most of the players were at a continuous run. When the test hit level 35, Marcus Kane blew his whistle.

“Good job, ladies!” He scanned the line of women standing in front of him. “This is your baseline. By the end of camp, I’m expecting to see some improvements!”

Clarke gave a sideways glance at Raven who she knew must be thinking the same thing. Raven whispered to Clarke, “The fact that he thinks I am going to improve my fitness level in two days has to be a joke.”

They learned quickly that Marcus Kane was completely serious. They were put through a series of other tests—bench pressing, vertical jumping, shuttle running, squatting, pushups and sit ups, flexibility, pull ups, you name it. At the end of the day, Clarke was trying to lift her arms above her head to stretch them as the team was sat in a conference room off of the gym that was attached to the training field. Kane dropped a packet in front of each one of them before sitting down.

“Listed in this packet you’ll find where to be and when to be there.”

“This is a novella, not a packet.” Raven joked to Octavia and Clarke.

“I wasn’t joking when I told you that he wasn’t joking!” Octavia countered.

Clarke scanned the packet, “An 0500 team run?”

“Consider it bonding.” Octavia shrugged.

Kane continued, “I’m looking for improvements over a short period of time,” he paused. “I know that you all gave me your all today, but I’m looking for who can give me even more.” He flipped through the packet, “If you flip to the calendar at the back of the packet, you’ll note the gym sessions are in red, meals are in gray, and field sessions are in blue. Please be to each designated location at least 15 minutes early and booted up and ready to work by the time listed on your schedules.” He put his copy down on the table in front of him and started again, “I know this is only two days, ladies, but I am looking for the best players in this room. Make sure you’re one of them.” Kane pulled his phone out of his pocket, presumably to check the time, “We’ll end camp with a scrimmage. For those of you that have been here before, you know how much I enjoy a closed friendly with Polis.” 

Clarke glanced over at Octavia who replied, “It’s how he likes to set the roster for the first regular season match.”

Kane continued, “For those of you who haven’t, it’s how I like to set the roster for the first regular season match.” Octavia winked at Clarke as Kane marched on, “The better you perform tomorrow and Sunday dictates how much play time you’ll receive during the scrimmage on Monday. I’m looking to set a final roster of 22 players.”

Kane stood up from his chair, “And that’s all I have ladies. Get some rest, and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

As everyone started to get up from their chairs, Clarke realized for the first time that she was nervous. When she first arrived, she was more ecstatic than anything. She occupied her mind with picking her jaw up off the ground every time she walked into a new part of the training facility, or the fact that she was being spotted by some of Trigeda’s best soccer players during her bench press.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, though, the uneasiness in Clarke’s stomach kicked in. She picked up her bag from underneath the chair and made her way toward the door with Octavia and Raven. They all said goodnight as they headed in the direction of their respective rooms. Clarke was rooming with a player everyone called ‘Echo’, and by the time Clarke walked through the door she already had her toothbrush in her mouth and was sitting cross-legged on her bed with her phone in her hands.

“Hey. Echo.” She introduced herself with a quick wave before looking back down at her phone.

“Clarke.”

“You looked great today, Clarke.”

“Yeah, thanks, you too.” Clarke smiled as she put her stuff at the foot of her bed.

“Don’t let Marcus scare you too much. Just get out there and play your best and you’ll be just fine.” Toothpaste was starting to drip down her chin, “Let me just rinse and then it’s all yours.”

“No rush.”

Clarke pulled out some clothes to change into after she showered as Echo disappeared into the bathroom.

She returned a few seconds later, “I know it’s gross, but I’m totally a morning shower person. Don’t judge.”

Clarke laughed, scooping her clothes and a bottle of shampoo up into her arms as she moved in the direction of the bathroom, past Echo who was crawling under the covers, “Judgement free zone.”

“Excellent. I like you already, Clarke.”

Clarke shut herself in the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as it could possibly go. She stepped in, immediately regretted it, and turned it down to a normal temperature before letting the water splash down over her chest, and then her face.

 _This is going to be a good thing,_ she reminded herself.

*******

They were 15 minutes into the last session of the day and running a 2v2 drill and Clarke was already pouring sweat, ““Is this even legal?”

The area was marked out into a square that was approximately 15 meters by 15 meters. Three players were in attacking position, while Clarke and Raven were playing defense. Raven had her game face on, and Clarke had been standing in a ready position for so long that her quads were burning. The girls—Aoife, Adelaide, and Beckah—moved to press Clarke as she widened her stance and focused on Aoife’s hips. She passed the ball to Beckah who gave the through pass to Adelaide. Raven was on her though and intercepted the pass. Marcus blew his whistle, “Great! Switch!” He blew it again.

Clarke and Raven took their place on the attacking side now, and Echo jumped in as their third. At the sound of the whistle, Echo pressed forward quickly, passing the ball backwards to Raven when her defender caught up. Raven stopped the ball, tried to fake right, but the other girl read her movement with ease. Raven looked up and to Echo but crossed the ball to Clarke instead. Clarke lurched forward and faked a pass back to Raven. She must have been convincing, because her defender—Vera, she thought—moved to follow the pass. Clarke advanced forward, and when the second defender caught up to her in the back field, Clarke spun to her left, leaving the ball in place for Echo to take it up and advance forward to the end of the box. They heard the whistle blow and hands clap together, “Excellent move, Clarke!”

With another whistle and Marcus’ cue to “Switch!” Echo, Raven, and Clarke took off at a jog to run laps around the field while waiting for their turn to enter the drill again.

“I could run drills all day, but making me run around this field is like—”

“Capital punishment?” Echo cut in.

“Oh, thank god I’m not the only one!” Raven laughed.

It was hard to believe that is was the last session of camp already. Saturday had started with an 0500 run, as promised. Clarke enjoyed it more than she imagined she would though, as the only sound being made was that of the 30 player’s shoes pounding into the pavement around the training facility. It was almost cathartic.

From there, they moved into a team lift, followed by their first meal together. Clarke spent her time getting to know some of the other women trying out, and watching Raven stuff bagels into her gear bag, _“If it’s free, it’s for me.”_

Octavia introduced Raven and Clarke to a few of her friends on the team, and after breakfast, she was selected to lead the team in a drill. Clarke couldn’t recall a time that she has ever seen Octavia happier.

After a few more drills, the team retreated to the kitchens to eat lunch and to be split up into small teams for a half field scrimmage. Each scrimmage lasted until the first team scored. The losing team had to do a fitness circuit during the next scrimmage—Clarke had never been more motivated to score in her life.

When she scored her first goal, it was on Lea Ericsson, the team’s returning keeper. A few of Clarke’s teammates gave her fist bumps and offered their gratitude, as Lea and the rest of her team stepped off the field to start their burpees. Clarke scored three more times in five games after that.

By the dinner came around, everyone was exhausted. When Marcus announced that the night session was a pool workout, everyone sighed with relief.

Clarke retired to bed that night singing along to the animated version of Beauty and the Beast with Echo. They both passed out before Belle even made it into the castle. When her phone alarm clock went off at 0430 the next morning, Echo groaned as Clarke rolled over onto her back. “If I quit now, would we stay in touch?”

Echo launched her pillow in Clarke’s direction as she dragged herself out of bed. Echo went to go hop in the shower, and Clarke started to throw on her trainers and a pair of sweats to run in.

After their easy 4 miles, the girls went straight to the field where Marcus made them run an exercise circuit similar to the one that they had to complete yesterday as a consequence for losing. When the sun started to rise over the training grounds, Clarke couldn’t remember a time she felt more at peace.

The rest of the day consisted of eating, and soccer, _”My two favorite things,”_ Octavia would say later.

By the time the girls had reached their 3rd lap, Marcus blew his whistle three times to signal the end of the drill. “Finish your laps, grab some water, then line up on the sideline!”

“Only fitness testing left,” Echo poured some of her water over her head.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it.” Raven was stretching her legs out next to Clarke.

“You are all so dramatic,” Octavia barely looked like she was sweating.

Each one of the players made their way to the line as Marcus started, “You know the deal by now-- the goal is to go as far past level 35 as possible. After you drop out, make your way into the fitness center and complete the rest of the tests with the trainer. Give it your all!”

Clarke lined up on the line next to Raven and Octavia. The first beep went off and they all started off at a jog toward to cone 20 meters away.

Level 35 came more quickly than Clarke remembered it came on Friday, which was probably a good thing. She didn’t feel completely gassed yet but watched as a few players ended their run and started to head toward the weight room. At level 39, her legs started to get tired, but she knew that she couldn’t quit now—not with Octavia and Raven still pushing on beside her, and the threat of fewer minutes played in the scrimmage tomorrow.

At level 40, Raven dropped out. There were only four other people left in the drill at this point, Octavia and Clarke included. By 42, Clarke was at a full sprint with barely a second break between each set. At 44, only Clarke and Octavia stood. When the beep went off again, Clarke sprinted toward the cone as fast as she could. The second beep went off, she shifted position, and she hustled through the other set of cones. She continued walking with her hands on her waist, head looking up at the sky and gasping for breath. Octavia was able to complete two more before meeting Clarke on the sideline.

“Great job, Griff!”

Clarke and Octavia grabbed their gear bags and headed into the gym with the rest of the team.

*******

Strength training had never really been Clarke’s forte, but she made improvements in all of the lifts they had to do for the remaining fitness tests. After a quick cool down that allowed for Marcus and the assistant coaches and trainers to assess everyone’s performance over the last two days, the team was sat in the same conference room where they got their briefing on Friday night. Marcus was stood at the front of the room with a clipboard in his hand.

“I just wanted to start off by saying, thank you.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm, “Thank you to each and every one of you for giving it your all this weekend. I am thoroughly and happily impressed with everyone’s performance. It’s an honor to be in the presence of such amazing players.” Marcus looked around and smiled, “This club would not be successful without each and every one of you putting in the effort that you do. So, again, thank you.”

“Next I’d like to say that we,” he motioned to the rest of the staff in the room, “Had a pretty difficult time narrowing down our starting roster. Remember—nothing is set in stone yet, but we feel pretty confidently about this starting line-up. Wouldn’t you say?” Clarke watched as the rest of the staff shifted and nodded their heads.

“Like I said before, I can take 22 players, and there are 30 of you here. This isn’t the end for anyone’s name who isn’t called. You will all get playing time tomorrow. That will be your final chance to really show me what you are made of.” Marcus paused, looking around for any objections. “If you’re starting tomorrow, don’t consider that your guarantee.”

Clarke could feel the nervous energy in the room as a few people started to shift in their seats. 

“All right, as promised, here’s the line-up for tomorrow. Starting with the keeper,” Clarke felt Raven tense up beside her, “Raven Reyes.” Everyone clapped twice, and then the heavy silence coated the room like thick fog again. Clarke bumped her shoulder into Raven’s subtly.

“Your defenders—let me see,” Marcus untucked his clipboard from underneath his arm and flipped through it. “Ah, yes, here we are—Teresa Guillory, Adelaide Tót, Vera Seward and Samira Genovese.” After each name came the sharp two claps.

“Midfielders— Beckah Swango,” _clap, clap,_ “Frida Sessions,” _clap, clap,_ “Echo Tales,” _clap, clap_.

“And last but not least, our forwards for the match,” Clarke’s heart was pounding in her chest. She looked to her left and then to her right to make sure nobody else could hear it. _Moment of truth, Griffin._ She felt Raven lean in and whisper to her, “You kicked ass this weekend, stop looking like you want to throw up everywhere.” 

As Marcus started, she held her breath, “Aoife McFee, Octavia Blake, and Clarke Griffin.” 

Clarke exhaled and smiled. _’This is going to be a good thing,’_ she thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this is going to be a good thing.


End file.
